Without You
by Elpheen
Summary: So much like him. Skate or Jate, read it in what way you will.


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Lost', or any of its characters, much as I would love to.**

This fic came to me after the episode 'Three Minutes'. It began as a Skate fic, but as I started writing I realised that this could be either about Sawyer or Jack. This means you can read it with either pairing in mind, which I think is great :o) I hope you enjoy it, it is my first 'Lost' fic, and my first fic written in the present tense. Please review, it really means a lot to me to know what you guys think! Criticism is welcome, I'm always looking to improve.

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_Every look, every touch,_

_They whisper of pain,_

_You burn my soul,_

_In a dangerous flame._

_Can't you see, can't you feel,_

_It's only ever been you._

He gazes down at the featureless figure in the grave, her face even now distorted in his mind. He remembers the way she spoke to him, but he can no longer recall her voice. Every time he sees the dark, wild hair and flawless complexion, she becomes her. Kate. It angers and grieves him how much this girl, woman, has affected him. He has had his share of women, but none before have gotten under his skin in this way. Every fleeting glance, every whispering touch burns and scars him. He raises his eyes to where she stands, a comforting hand on Hurley's shoulder, imagining that hand in his; small, gentle, before closing his eyes and berating himself for his weakness. He was so weak. If only she could see him like this, in his moments of pain, sorrow. He laughs inwardly at himself, imagining her reaction. She would understand, comfort him. But then she is strong, and he is so very weak.

He feels her eyes fall to him and grits his teeth, telling himself not to meet them with his own, lest he fall under their spell. He has vowed not to let anything happen, not to let it go further than the single kiss they have shared. One kiss. He wonders if she remembers the jungle that day. If she remembers the sound the leaves made as she moved away, the way the sun moved behind a cloud, throwing him into shadow as he watched her leave. Always watching her leave.

Once certain that she is no longer looking at him, he watches her silently, taking in her simple beauty. She looks so much more domestic recently, in the hatch, preparing food, doing laundry. It suits her, he thinks. When she relaxes, when she is doing something 'normal', he sees past the tough exterior she puts on to protect herself.

So much like him.

_You pretend to the world_

_That you're coping alright,_

_But we both know_

_That you won't last the night._

_Can't you see, can't you feel,_

_We're both the same inside._

Looking back down at the sand, he contemplates whether to act on his feelings for her. It would mean giving in, letting down his guard for the first time in years. He thinks back on the promise he made himself, not to get involved, not to let anyone close to him. He will only hurt her. And she has suffered so much pain already, too much pain for someone so innocent. He wonders if she realises how often he dreams of her. Of them. But it is not to be. They can never be. Not in this life.

He sighs, turning away from the group and making his way along the beach. Alone. Always alone. The quiet lapping of the waves on the sand calms him, soothes him. He walks more slowly, letting his feet sink into the soft sand with every step. A gentle breeze whispers over his shoulders, carrying her name on its breath. He closes his eyes, stopping for a second.

He hears soft footfalls behind him, and feels her fall into step beside him.

'Hey,' she says gently.

'Hey,' he replies, not trusting himself to look at her.

'I saw the way you looked at her sometimes…I'm sorry.'

'Yeah, well…' he hears the faint hurt in her voice, and wishes he could put and end to her eternal pain, wishes it didn't affect him the way it did. He carries on walking, knowing that she has to take long strides to match his pace, and he somehow takes pleasure in knowing that he is at least physically stronger than her. He realises that she is no longer with him, and slows to look behind him. She is standing at the water's edge, her dark hair blowing about her shoulders, as she gazes out to sea, waiting for the rescue that will never come.

_So alone, all alone,_

_I can't leave you here._

_But every word, every glance, _

_Whispers of fear._

_Can't you see, can't you feel,_

_I'm trapped, just like you._

He stands beside her, asks why she stopped. She replies, in a voice hardly stronger than a whisper,

'I'm sinking.'

It takes him a moment to realise what she means, but as the waves pull out, he feels his feet sink lower into the sand. This is her escape, her physical metaphor for who she is. Sinking. In sorrow, in pain, in anger, in confusion. And he understands. He understands better than she will ever realise. In silence they stand, sinking together, watching the blood red orb of the sun disappear beneath the surface of the water. If only it was that easy, he thinks, to just disappear. To his surprise he finds her hand in his, her fingers laced between his, trusting, gentle. He wonders how long they have been standing like this, alone, together.

Looking up, he sees a single tear escaping her eye, running slowly down her freckled cheek, to fall off her chin into a sea that was already salty with tears. She knows she is being watched and raises her eyes to his, full of watery resignation to what could never be. He slowly raises a hand to her face and wipes the traces of tears with his thumb, not asking, not questioning, just accepting.

A smile flickers across her lips for a brief moment and then it is gone. She sighs, and it is full of emotion that cannot be written, or even described. It is a sigh of one who has seen and known too much, too young, and of one who cannot be healed. He pulls her close to him; she has let her weakness be seen, it is time he returned some feeling. He holds her close, his chin on her head, just existing. Her breath steadies from quick, choking gasps of one who is grieving, and her heart soon slows to beat in time with his.

He embraces her, this figure that stands for all that is perfect but scarred, and strokes her hair, not believing that she is finally in his arms. She begins to shiver from the brisk night air, and he whispers to her,

'I think we should head back.'

'No, not yet. Just…hold me, okay?' her broken words speak of a girl who has never experienced what it is to be held, simply held, by someone with no expectations, no hope for anything more than to be with each other, be together.

_Together we can make it, _

_If you'll trust in me,_

_Hold my hand,_

_I'll pull you free._

_Can't you see, can't you feel,_

_We were meant to be._

Later, as they separate, he glances down at their feet. The tide has gone out, and is now meters from where they are standing.

'Look,' he gestures to the sand, 'we're not sinking any more.'

She meets his eyes for the first time, and smiles, a genuine smile, though tear-streaked, and laughs. She laughs for the mere sake of laughing, that she is no longer alone and has been saved from her downward spiral of despair. Without thinking, he leans in and kisses her chastely, lingering only a second longer than necessary. There are no promises made, no vows to be kept, only an exchange of trust. As they walk back up the beach, they are both saved, by each other, finding solace in the one thing they both thought was forbidden to them in life. He whispers, almost inaudibly, as they approach the fires of the camp,

'Thank you.'

_Can't you see, can't you feel,_

_This is right, this is real._


End file.
